


A Chance to Explain

by HeyYousGuys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Reconciliation, meeting again as adults
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-07 09:52:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17958263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyYousGuys/pseuds/HeyYousGuys
Summary: Harry and Draco just happen to meet again as adults. Now that they've both matured, their childish animosity is gone. This new-found civility gives them both a chance to explain their past behavior.





	A Chance to Explain

**Author's Note:**

> Story is unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. Characters belong to JKR.

Harry hadn't been to this part of Muggle London in a long time. Not since the year he, Hermione, and Ron spent running from Voldemort. Being as unobservant as he often was, it took Harry quite a while to realize that he was on Tottenham Court Road. Once he realized it, however, he knew immediately where he wanted to go: Luchino Caffe, the sight of a near-miss with two Death Eaters whose names Harry had long forgotten. 

He hadn't thought about the war in a very long time. Eight years had passed. Harry had tried so hard to forget most of the war and its many battles. Yet he was still inexplicably drawn to the cafe. He was curious if there would be any evidence of the brief battle that had taken place there. Maybe calling it a battle was a stretch, Harry thought to himself. Maybe it was just a 5-person duel. Was that a thing? Harry shook his head to clear it and trudged onward, eventually locating the cafe. 

He stood outside and stared at the place for a moment. He couldn't remember what it looked like back then. They had been in such a hurry, fleeing the wedding and trying to run from Death Eaters. Harry supposed that fearing for your life and the safety of those you loved caused you to forget little details like the outer appearance of a cafe. 

Harry pushed the door open and headed inside. It seemed like any normal cafe might. He didn't immediately notice any signs that a small battle had occurred here eight years ago. But it was just a cursory glance. Perhaps he would sit down and order something and really look at the cafe around him. He made his way over to the booths but stopped short.

Sitting there, as though he belonged in a Muggle cafe, was Draco Malfoy. He was looking down at a Muggle book, of all things, reading! His blond hair was shorter now, though still stylish. His clothes were Muggle but still refined. And he still carried himself with the air of someone well bred. Harry took a moment to admire how grown up Malfoy looked. No longer a thin boy, he had filled out well and had broad, muscular shoulders. He was actually quite handsome. Though a part of Harry's brain screamed that Malfoy had always been handsome. Harry ignored it. 

Before he could turn away and find his own booth to sit in, Malfoy looked up from his book and noticed Harry. He seemed surprised, but not unwelcoming. He actually smiled a little bit, which made Harry smile in response. 

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy greeted kindly. "What brings you here?" 

"I... uhhh...," Harry shook his head to clear it again. "I realized that I was near this place and I wanted to come see it again."

"Again? You've been here before?" Malfoy inquired.

"Yeah...," Harry grimaced. "Ummm.. It's kind of a long story."

"Well, if you have the time, I certainly do. Please, join me. I'd love to hear the story of your previous visit here." 

Harry smiled kindly at Malfoy, grateful that he was being welcomed with warmth. He hadn't expected that. Then again, it had been almost a decade since he'd seen Malfoy. Malfoy had probably changed a lot, Harry imagined. Harry was certainly a different person from the 17-year old who had last seen Malfoy. He slid smoothly into the booth and wiggled until he was comfortable. 

Across the table, Malfoy had a look of amusement on his face. 

"What?" Harry asked, a little defensively.

"My mum used to call me Wiggle Worm sometimes, when I would squirm like that to get comfortable. It was nice to be reminded of her." 

"You don't see her anymore?" Harry's voice conveyed his incredulity. Harry thought that Malfoy was a such a mama's boy that he'd never be able to survive without her. Harry knew realistically that Malfoy would grow up and live his life. But Harry assumed that Malfoy would always rely on his mother's advice to get by. 

"She and my father moved to Croatia after my father was released from Azkaban. They didn't think anyone here would receive him well, especially since so many people thought his sentence was too lenient. They were worried about backlash." 

"And you didn't go with them?" Malfoy shook his head. "Why not?" 

"I was sick of being a wizard. I wanted to get away from it all, from the memories. I learned to live as a Muggle. I quite enjoy Muggle life nowadays. No one knows who I am. No one harasses me on the streets. No one turns me away in pubs and shops." Malfoy looked a little bitter, which reminded Harry of the boy he had once known.

"But wouldn't moving to Croatia with your parents mean that no one would harass you and turn you away?"

"Maybe," Malfoy shrugged. "But it would also have meant staying under the influence of my father. I love him, of course, but he's very toxic. I didn't want to be anywhere near him, if I could avoid it." 

"Wow!" Harry commented.

"What?" Malfoy arched an eyebrow.

"I just... I thought you worshipped your father," Harry explained.

"I did. And I was miserable. I didn't realize it at the time, of course, but I was. Once he was in Azkaban, I started seeing a therapist. Mum wanted me to heal from the mental scars inflicted on me during that time. It was during therapy that I realized that I had actually been emotionally abused as a child. I began to see how toxic and capable of cruelty my father was. I began to see how he manipulated me and controlled me. And how I went right along with it because I admired him so much. I tried so hard to be the perfect son that it turned me into a person I hated." 

Malfoy paused as the waitress came over to take Harry's order and refill Malfoy's coffee. As Harry only ordered a simple coffee with cream, the two men remained silent while waiting for Harry's drink to arrive, knowing the waitress would be back soon. 

While they waited, Harry took the time to study Malfoy more closely. Malfoy, for his part, sat still and calmly allowed Harry to look his fill. Malfoy's jawline had become sharper, something Harry would not have thought possible before. But it suited him well. His fingers were long and slender, wrapping elegantly around his coffee cup. Harry watched as Malfoy brought the cup up to his lips and took a sip. Harry made note of how soft and plump Malfoy's lips looked. How had he never noticed that before? 

Malfoy, noticing where Harry's gaze was, grinned cheekily. 

"What?!" Harry asked, slightly defensive.

"Nothing. Do continue your appraisal of my features. I was enjoying watching your reactions to the things you saw," Malfoy winked at him and then chuckled as Harry blushed and looked away. After taking a moment to compose himself, Harry continued studying Malfoy's features. 

Maybe it was just because they were no longer being hostile toward one another now, but Harry noticed a depth to Malfoy's grey eyes that he had never seen in them before. Maybe Malfoy was letting his guard down? Or maybe Harry had always seen what he wanted to see: cruelty and anger in Malfoy. Either way, Harry enjoyed the change. He liked being able to gaze into Malfoy's eyes now and see kindness and forgiveness there. He smiled sweetly at Malfoy, who returned the expression. Just then, their waitress returned with Harry's coffee.

The two sat in silence for a moment, sipping their drinks and looking around at the cafe itself. Harry still didn't notice any evidence of the battle. Realizing he had never explained to Malfoy the story of the last time he was here, Harry turned back to his old enemy and took a breath, intending to tell the story. However, before Harry could get a word out, Malfoy spoke timidly. 

"Why did you hate me so much back then?" Harry barely heard the words, as Malfoy was looking down at his lap and had practically whispered them. 

"Not to be antagonistic,” Harry replied cautiously, not wanting to ruin this new-found civility between them, “but you kind of deserved it, don't you think?" 

"I mean, at first,” Malfoy clarified, looking chagrined.” When we first met while getting our robes. You seemed so nice at first and then... you changed. And it got worse and worse from then on out. It's like I repelled you simply by existing."

"Part of it was you and the things you said, those things you parroted from your father.” Malfoy nodded at this, knowing Harry was right. “But part of it was me, too. I was jealous of you and I resented you because of it, so I found reasons to hate you."

"Jealous of me?!" Malfoy's voice rose in pitch. "Why? You were the famous Harry Potter! Everyone loved you!" 

"They didn't really. Not the real me. They loved the idea of me. The celebrity version of me that they'd grown up hearing about. But that wasn't me. The real me... he had nothing. No parents to love him. No family that cared about him an iota. Nothing to look forward to on holidays. I mean, before Hogwarts, I never even got any real presents. I was lucky if the Dursleys even remembered my birthday at all. And then there you were: you had parents who seemed to dote on you and were so proud of you and who were always there when you needed them. You had presents heaped upon you. With all of those sweets on Fridays and your nice clothes and regular letters from home. I was jealous. I mean, you were so spoiled and I had nothing."

"Yes, I was spoiled,” Malfoy’s voice was calm but tinged with sadness. Though he had seen a therapist and seemed healthier now, Harry surmised that he still had trouble discussing his past. Harry didn’t blame him. Harry hated talking about the war and, for a long time, had tried to forget it. He, too, had eventually seen a therapist to deal with everything that happened to him. “I didn't know it at the time, but I was a spoiled kid,” Malfoy continued.”The thing is, because I was so spoiled, I had never had to make friends on my own before. People I had met were always friendly to me because of who my parents were. But they weren't really friends with me. Most of them were just obeying their parents because their parents wanted to get in good with the Malfoys and impress the formidable Lucius by sucking up to his son and forcing their kids to be his lackeys. I know now that they weren't really my friends. But it was nice at the time because I never had to make an effort to make a friend. Until I met you..." Malfoy's voice trailed off and his eyes unfocused, as though he were traveling back in time to the day he and Harry first met. "You were the first person I had to make friends with all on my own, without my family name and without my father present to force you into being nice to me. And I honestly believed that I was going to be so good at making a friend and that you'd just adore me because I was wonderful. So when you rejected me, it stung more than you could ever know." Malfoy's voice was thick and tight, as though the wound was still fresh. 

"Is that why you were always so mean? Because you were hurt?" Harry inquired gently.

"Yes. I reacted in anger. It was the only defense I had at the time. I mean, come on, we were eleven! Neither of us were mature enough to handle situations like that. And when I lashed out at you, you lashed right back." 

“I did. Because I had been abused, like you had. And because I didn’t know how else to handle it. I was mean to you from the beginning,” Harry’s voice was filled with regret.

“We both were,” Malfoy shouldered some of the blame; an olive branch to Harry.

"Well, I think it's time we both apologize and make amends," Harry stated, reaching his hand across the table. Malfoy smiled a little as he took Harry's hand and shook it.

"Hi. I'm Draco." Draco smiled.

"It's nice to meet you, Draco. I'm Harry." Harry beamed at him.

"It's nice to meet you, too, Harry," Draco said warmly. He gave Harry's hand a final squeeze before letting go and looking down at his coffee cup. They sat in silence for a few moments, letting this moment sink in. Finally, Draco spoke up. "It took me 25 years to achieve my childhood dream of befriending the famous Harry Potter," he remarked in awe. 

"Only 14 and change," Harry replied, smirking. "After all, you can't befriend someone you've never met. And we only met 14 years ago. So, see?" Harry teased. "You're not so bad at making friends on your own! Maybe in another 14 years, you'll have two whole friends!" Harry winked and Draco laughed. Harry loved seeing Draco laugh. His entire being lit up and his eyes shone. Harry vowed to himself that he would make Draco laugh as often as he could from now on. 

\- - - - 

Harry and Draco made meeting up at Luchino Caffe a regular occurrence. Harry, with his office job at the Ministry, had a pretty routine schedule. After attempting to be an Auror for a year or so, Harry had a mental breakdown and realized that his job was only adding to his PTSD. So he’d been given an office job in the DMLE and had found that he liked the monotony and predictability of it. After several years of living a routine life, however, he still hadn’t moved past his PTSD and nightmares. So he sought therapy and found that he enjoyed it. He was finally healing and able to live the life he might once have had, had a stupid prophecy not decided his entire childhood for him. 

Draco, for his part, had started therapy almost immediately after the trials. Once his father was imprisoned and his mother sentenced to house arrest (after Harry begged the Wizengamot to spare her because she had saved his life), Draco had begun seeing a therapist at his mother’s behest. It had helped more than he could’ve guessed it would. He began healing and changing and was finally able to live the life he might once have had, had his father not decided to follow the whims of a madman who believed in a stupid prophecy. 

And so, every Sunday at 4 pm, like clockwork, Draco and Harry met up at Luchino Caffe. 

“So,” Draco commented, pausing a moment to sip his latte, “you never told me the story of ‘the last time you were here’.” 

“The last time I was here?” Harry inquired, eyebrows raised, “You were with me the last time I was here.” 

“No, dummy,” Draco laughed. “When we first met up here, two months ago. I asked what brought you in and you said you had been here before but that it was a long story. So what was the long story?” 

“Oh,” Harry commented, looking down. “It was… at the start of the war.” 

The war was a subject they had both tried to avoid. It was inevitable that it would come up. Like when Harry thanked Draco for not identifying him in the Manor. Or when Draco thanked Harry for returning his wand. Or when Harry thanked Draco for Narcissa saving his life. Or when Draco thanked Harry for saving him from the fiendfyre. But, mostly, they kept their conversations away from the worst time in their lives. Harry didn’t necessarily want to talk about it, but he did owe Draco an explanation. 

“At Bill’s wedding… Bill is Ron’s older brother,” Harry explained, in case Draco wasn’t sure.

“The one married to the veela who was a tri-wizard champion, right?” Draco clarified.

“Yes. Him. At their wedding, a bunch of patronuses arrived to warn us that the Ministry had fallen and that Death Eaters were on their way. We scattered. Ron, Hermione, and I had to flee on our own, because we knew that they were looking for us and would kill anyone who got in their way. So Hermione apparated us at random. We ended up out there,” Harry pointed to the street outside. Draco glanced outside, trying to imagine what that must’ve felt like. “We changed and then needed to regroup. So we found this place. We didn’t know what to do or where to go. But one of us, I can’t even remember which one anymore, said his name. We didn’t know a trace had been put on it. The next thing we know, two workmen arrive and sit down in that booth there,” Harry pointed and Draco turned to look over his shoulder. 

“And…,” Harry continued, “I don’t know… I just knew. The way the man reached, I knew that he was reaching for his wand. So I grabbed mine and we began dueling. The five of us nearly destroyed this place. But then we had to run again, so I never knew what happened to the cafe or how the Muggles explained it away to themselves. And when I found myself here a couple months ago, I had to see. I had to know if the cafe still showed signs of the battle that had taken place here.”

“Because you still shows signs of it yourself. So you needed to see if, maybe, the building didn’t. If maybe the building itself was okay. Because you’re not.” Draco commented softly. Harry knew he was right. And had Ron or Hermione or even Neville suggested it, Harry would’ve argued with them. But he knew Draco was right. 

“Yeah…” Harry admitted quietly. For a moment, he sat there staring at the patterns in the tabletop, tracing them with his finger. His mind was lost in memories of a time he’d rather not remember. A time he really only discussed with his therapist. It wasn’t easy talking to anyone about that time. But with Draco, Harry found, it wasn’t as hard as it normally was. 

“Hey,” Harry heard Draco whisper at the same time that he felt Draco’s warm hand slide into his. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. He can’t hurt you anymore. You beat him.” 

Harry looked up into the softest, most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen and swallowed. Draco knew. Without ever being told, Draco knew exactly what Harry had felt back then. They were mirror images of one another: their experiences so strikingly similar and yet so opposite. Harry didn’t have to explain with Draco. Draco had lived it, too. And they understood each other on such a profound level. 

“I wish…,” Harry bit his lip and looked away. He couldn’t say this while looking at Draco. “I wish we had been friends back then. I wish neither of us had to live through what he did to us. I wish we had been allowed to just be kids. To tease each other. To play games together. To study for classes together. To just… be together.” 

“It’s not too late,” Draco whispered, squeezing Harry’s hand and bringing his attention back to the gorgeous man in front of him. “To be together, I mean. To make good memories to replace the bad ones. I’m willing if you’re willing.” 

And in that moment, Draco looked so open and exposed. Harry felt like he could see Draco’s very soul. Harry practically jumped across the table as he grabbed Draco’s shirt and pulled his face closer to kiss him. Harry paused, inches from Draco’s lips. Draco nodded and closed the distance between them. 

As they kissed, the scars fell away, the memories fell away, the hurt and pain fell away. All that existed was the two of them, here and now. No war, no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no torture or starvation or abuse. Just happiness and love. Together. Harry knew, then and there, that he wanted to kiss Draco for the rest of his life.


End file.
